


impress me

by WattStalf



Series: it's just piss [60]
Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Omorashi, PWP, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 08:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8616913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WattStalf/pseuds/WattStalf
Summary: Any real man could do something like this, you know? Don't you want to impress me?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [91dayskinkmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/91dayskinkmeme) collection. 



> blame the hellchat for this  
> second chapter coming soon

Frate shifts in his seat. He clenches a fist under the table. He inhales. He exhales. He stares down and he bites the inside of his cheek. Above all, he tries not to let on, even though, of course, Ronaldo already knows.

~X~

“ _But why do you want me to...” He trails off, feeling odd even finishing his sentence._

“ _What does it matter why I want you to?” Ronaldo asks. “I asked you to, and you asked what you could do for me, right?”_

_Frate stares at his lap and nods, unsure of what else to say. He can't say no, despite how very unsure he is, but he can't understand this. All he can do is nod and agree to go along with it._

“ _Any real man could do something like this, you know? Don't you want to impress me?” Ronaldo always says things like this to get Frate to do whatever he wants, and even though he knows that he's probably being tricked into most of those things, he would never dream of saying no. Not to Ronaldo, and not when he's finally got somebody_ looking _at him,_ telling _him that he can do something to impress him._

“ _Just one day,” he says. “Just make it through the whole day, and at the end of the day, I'll reward you. How does that sound?”_

_And so he agrees, thinking that it can't be as bad as he's making it out to be. He doesn't think to question the day Ronaldo chose for him, or the fact that he's going to have to sit through a meeting with his family, all the while pretending that there's nothing going on._

~X~

If he catches Ronaldo's eye, the older man gives him the slightest hint of a smirk and he squirms, looking down. He's doing all he can to conceal his problem, but it's been a long day, and, as per Ronaldo's orders, he hasn't visited the bathroom even once since finishing his morning routine. Frate's bladder is so full that it hurts, and he can barely sit still.

At first, it wasn't so bad. He rose in the morning, relieved himself once, and not long after that, Ronaldo arrived to keep an eye on him. He's tried to keep his liquid intake to a minimum, but Ronaldo insisted a few times and he's had enough that, by now, it's really starting to hurt him. Frate hasn't been in a position where he's been forced to hold it for this long in a very long time, and even though he _wants_ to be able to trust himself to make it for the rest of the day, he has to make it through this meeting before he can retreat to his room with Ronaldo, and he isn't sure what's going to come after that.

He clenches his fists in his lap, digging his nails into his palms to try and distract himself from the throbbing in his lower abdomen, but he's past the point of distraction. Rocking back and forth slightly, he jiggles one of his knees, hoping, _praying_ that he isn't doing anything too obvious. Of course, Ronaldo is very aware of his every movement, and when he notices this, he lets out a soft, low chuckle.

“Is something funny?” asks Ganzo, irritated at having been interrupted.

“Nothing, nothing,” he replies, waving a hand and wearing a knowing grin. He's met with a few scowls, while Frate stares down, blinking back tears. It _hurts_ , and there's nothing he can do about it, and if he fails now, Ronaldo... _everyone_ will know it. He'll be humiliated in front of everyone, and why, why, _why_ does that excite a part of him? When did he become so fucked up that he would start to enjoy something like this?

Ganzo mutters something about respect and Ronaldo laughs a little harder, and things proceed as if nothing happened while Frate fights against his own body. Every time someone brings up another point, every time a conversation drags on into an argument, he wants to cry, and he wants to beg them to wrap this up, but he doesn't. All he does is bite his cheek harder, hard enough to draw blood, and curl his toes in his shoes, and his breathing grows so heavy that he's sure someone must be able to hear it.

“Frate,” his father says, and he feels his blood grow cold. Of all the people to notice his behavior! “You don't look like you're feeling well. Is something wrong?”

“N-no,” he mutters.

“I'm not so sure,” Vincent replies. “If you're not feeling well, you can be excused. You should worry more about your health, you know. Especially while you're young, when it counts.”

He wants to argue, to prove that he's fine and can sit through the rest of the meeting, but when he thinks about the possibility of _not_ being able to make it through the rest of the meeting, he knows that he has to take the opportunity he's been given. Nodding, he mumbles his thanks and excuses himself, struggling to walk and continue to conceal his growing desperation. Each step pains him and he's afraid that he's taking this too slowly, that everyone will know just by looking at him, but he makes it out the door without another word said to him and is able to walk to his room at a pace that isn't exactly _comfortable_ , but is much easier on him.

The wait from that point on is, in a way, less torturous simply because there is no one watching him and he's free to squirm and grab between his legs as much as he wants, but in a way, it only gets worse from there, because he is soon past the point where those things can help at all. Soon, he is is so much pain and is so short of breath that he wishes he had locked his door. If anyone else were to come in...

He flinches when his doorknob turns later, but he is fortunate enough that it is only Ronaldo, who takes one look at him and laughs. “You almost slipped up, you know? Getting sent away from that meeting like that...but you're still holding on in here, and I'm proud of that.”

At his words, Frate brightens even as he trembles on the edge of losing control, and he asks, “Is it over yet? Can I...?”

Closing the distance between them, his grin grows and grows. “Frate...it's not over until I say so. You know that.” He drags Frate with him, jostling him uncomfortably, and he sits down, pulling the young man onto his lap where he squirms and struggles and tries to get up. It's too much for him, and he's _sitting on his lap_ , so he knows that he has to keep _waiting_ , but it hurts _so much_ , and he doesn't think he _can_.

“You've done a good job,” Ronaldo murmurs, low in his ear. “You've proven yourself, you know that? But...” He rests a hand on Frate's stomach to feel how swollen he is. “But I'm not going to let you up.”

Frate makes to protest but his voice is caught in his throat and he's blinking back tears again, and he doesn't want to _do_ this, but he _really_ wants to do this, and he doesn't have a choice either way because he's reached his very limit with Ronaldo pressing on him like that. All he can do is let out one broken whimper before it's over, and his body betrays him, the hot liquid spurting out of him at first before turning to a steady stream, gushing and darkening his own pants before soaking through into the lap of the man holding him.

His breath comes out in short, shuddering gasps as he empties, and even when it's all over, there's still a dull ache remaining, and neither of them say a word. His face is red with shame, but already there are other feelings swelling up to mingle with that shame, and he doesn't know what to make of all of this.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?” asks Ronaldo after a moment of silence. “You made it all day, didn't you?” Frate stares down, not speaking as he nods, and the older man chuckles. “Come on, don't give me that, or I'll start to think that you didn't like that at all!”

“Did...did you?” he asks, finally speaking up.

“Huh? What kind of question is that? I wouldn't have asked you to do something like that if I didn't enjoy it.” Frate is silent again, knowing that he shouldn't be surprised, but surprised nonetheless. “Don't tell me that's too far for you. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself in...unconventional ways? You know, your sister would probably shriek if I even so much as suggested it to her, but I had hoped you would be different...”

It's that goddamn _comparison_ that always gets Frate. He's always felt like he had to compete with Nero, that's no secret, but falling for Ronaldo as he was courting his older sister introduced a new kind of jealousy into his life. When the man began to notice him more and more, he knew that he was willing to do anything to keep his attention, proving himself to him as both a man and as a lover.

“I like it,” he says quickly, and it isn't even entirely a lie. “It was just...it hurt a little bit, you know?”

“It gets easier, if you practice enough,” he replies, and Frate wonders if he should dread the implication of those words or if he should feel excited. “You've proven yourself enough for today, but any real man is eventually hardly bothered by it at all. It's just a minor inconvenience. Do you want me to show you?”

Not sure what he means by that, Frate doesn't know if he  _does_ want him to or not, but he knows better than to refuse an offer like that. He nods again, and Ronaldo gives him a small shove. Frate gets off his lap and stands, the wet fabric of his pants clinging to his legs uncomfortably as he does so. The liquid has already gone cold and he wonders if it's bothering Ronaldo as much as it is him, but the older man doesn't say anything about it as he stands up.

“Get down,” he says, pushing a hand on Frate's shoulder, and the boy does as he's told, getting down on his knees. “See, when you've got enough practice, it hardly bothers you at all. You can last all day and nobody even notices a thing. Wouldn't that be nice? To be able to not have to worry about anyone catching on to why you can't sit still?”

He goes for his zipper and only then does Frate understand what's happening, and he doesn't have the chance to truly process it and decide what he thinks of it before Ronaldo is pissing on him, groaning in relief, with a complete disregard for Frate's clothing, or where he aims. All the boy can do is close his eyes and his mouth, as the hot liquid hits his face several times, and it cascades down to soak through his coat and his vest and his shirt, the top half of his suit growing just as wet as the bottom half.

“It's partially payback for getting _me_ so wet before,” says Ronaldo, “but it's also because I wanted to see you like this.” He groans again, this time a bit more theatrically, and then lets out a long sigh as his stream finally trickles to a stop. Frate tentatively opens his eyes, looking up to see his lover smirking down at him, and he isn't sure what humiliates him more; the fact that he pissed him, the fact that Ronaldo pissed on him, or the fact that he loved both of those things.

He whimpers and Ronaldo laughs, shaking his head. “Don't worry, don't worry. I'll take good care of you, just make sure you take care of me first, got it?” Nodding yet again, Frate tips his up to take Ronaldo into his mouth, feeling the older man getting hard as he does so.

It only takes a moment for him to get fully hard, and then he grips the back of Frate's head, holding him in place while the boy sucks him off dutifully. He's got enough experience in this department by now to know exactly what Ronaldo wants, and he does his job just right up until the point where the older man gets impatient, as he always does, and tightens his grip and rocks his hips into Frate's mouth.

They stay like that for a while, Ronaldo fucking his mouth with such abandon that it takes all he has not to gag. Frate is getting better at taking him like this, but he still feels tears in his eyes as he fights his own gag reflex, and he knows that his jaw will be sore for a while after this. Even so, he doesn't mind, because it makes Ronaldo happy, and the man will smile at him when this is over and tell him he's done a good job and offer him a reward.

He even swallows every time, despite the fact that he isn't overly fond of the taste, simply because he doesn't want to make too much of a mess for Ronaldo- though that line of thinking seems a little redundant tonight, all things considered. But, as always, he swallows when Ronaldo comes, groaning softly and holding tight, tugging on Frate's hair a bit. He doesn't ever mind the pain that comes from that; in fact, he rather likes it, and even though he hasn't said anything about that, he's sure that Ronaldo knows. Really, it seems that he knows everything, without Frate ever having to tell him.

Leaning back to catch his breath, he pauses before he says, “That was good. You've done a good job all around today. You know that? You've certainly impressed me.” He flashes a teasing grin and Frate flushes, squirming from something quite different than his earlier desperation.

This, of course, isn't lost on Ronaldo, who says, “Come on. I bet you're ready to be rewarded, aren't you?”

 


End file.
